<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Little girl by Acinorev</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29081751">Little girl</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acinorev/pseuds/Acinorev'>Acinorev</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, F/M, First Love, Harry Styles - Freeform, Little Girl - Freeform, Romance, Teen Fiction, highschool</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:54:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,058</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29081751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acinorev/pseuds/Acinorev</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>From the story:</p><p>"Harry's delicate and falsely innocent fingertips walked on her abdomen, down to her light jeans buttons. When he slowly grabbed them to pull them out of the buttonholes, Emma let a more intense breath slip away from her lips. Probably because of the surprise, probably because of the pure pleasure in pressing against his body, probably because of the eagerness for something she had never experienced or because of the fear of something she wasn't sure she wanted to feel... Emma slightly shuddered.<br/>She heard him smile, with his mouth close to her right ear and his hand finally stopping its slow torture. «Told you» Harry whispered. «You're just a little girl» he added."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Stoned</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! </p><p>My name is Veronica, I'm from Italy. This is the translation of a story I wrote in 2014: it started out as a fanfiction, but it ended up slightly different I'd say! To me it's an original story, leaving aside some names.<br/>I hope you'll like it!</p><p>English is not my first language obviously and I have no-one to help me with the translation, so I apologize if there will be mistakes: I'm all hears if you have corrections to be made, they would be very helpful! </p><p>Enjoy your reading and let me know positive or negative comments.</p><p>Thank you!</p><p>PS. You can also find this story on Wattpad!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>1. Stoned</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>With a glimpse at that Monday afternoon’s sky, Emma exhaled deeply just to create a small cloud of condensation in front of her pail face. She sniffed and kicked a pebble that had found itself on her steps, lowering her head into her grey woollen scarf. «You’re going to pay for this sooner or later» she muttered shivering.</p><p>Pete, who was walking beside her, freed a laughter in the air. «Isn’t my love enough?» He asked her, wrapping Emma’s shoulders with his arm and leaving a quick kiss on her cold cheek.</p><p>Emma shook him off with a faint smile and her eyelids closing on her dark blue eyes. «No» she denied. «In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, I need money to buy that sweater I saw downtown the other day.»</p><p>It was Pete’s fault if they were walking around Bradford, an English city located in the region of Yorkshire and Humber – with a temperature that had dropped below zero. He loved the cold as he loved the frozen landscape and the small ice crystals on the streets, but he did not love enjoying this all by himself, because he hated loneliness just as much, even if his attitude suggested otherwise most of the times.</p><p>«Ah, don’t look at me now» he sighed shrugging. «It’s Dallas who usually deals with our financials» he explained, pointing with his head to the guy next to Emma.</p><p>Emma raised her eyebrow and shook her head. Instead of replying with one of his well-known jokes, Dallas cleared his throat and grossly admitted the one need that was bothering him in that moment: «I have to pee».</p><p>«By the way, wanting to be precise, you owe me too» Pete continued, pointing his index finger to her. «I had to endure that bitch of the Math teacher all by myself, today: she asked me four times to correct her stupid exercises and you weren’t there to give me hints, so you can imagine how wonderful my day was.»</p><p>Emma laughed out loud picturing the scene in her mind, narrowing her eyes and covering her mouth with one hand. «Come on, you know too well not to count on me at times like these» she apologized. In fact, the first day of school after winter break – or any other break – wasn’t exactly her favourite: she didn’t despised classes, on the contrary, they were quite indifferent to her nor they costed her particular effort, but she didn’t like the atmosphere. The school corridors used to end up full of students frustrated for the end of the holydays or too enthusiastic about meeting again their companions in misfortune, or naively frightened if they were first-years. Emma would rather avoid all that morning chaos and get back to school on the following day, when it all had calmed down and the school break end was less striking.</p><p>Even her mother had surrendered to her daughter’s habit. In fact, on that same morning she hadn’t even insisted in waking her up in one way or the other. The girl had simply turned against the wall, when called on, and waited to fall asleep again with her family’s noises downstairs, grateful that she didn’t have to run to not be late.</p><p>«Yeah, meanwhile I was about to get a low mark and <em>you know</em> I couldn’t make up to that even with the help of some blessed angel» Pete remarked, making a stuffed sound with his tongue against his palate.</p><p>«Guys, maybe I didn’t make myself clear» Dallas intervened. «I need to pee» he repeated stopping on the sidewalk.</p><p>«Find a spot and go on» was the practical solution offered by Pete.</p><p>«Yes, you should, also because this pretty boy, right here, doesn’t even want to hear about warm places, so you can forget about a proper bathroom» explained Emma using a friendly exaggeration.</p><p>«This is out of question. Let’s go find a pub or some other hole and I’ll pee there» a confident Dallas replied.</p><p>«Here we go again…» muttered Pete, shaking his head.</p><p>«Can’t see any» Emma pointed out, looking around. The street seemed packed with libraries and private apartments, even flower shops e jewelry stores, but nothing that could offer them a bathroom.</p><p>«Then let’s move on.»</p><p>Emma looked up to the sky and twisted her mouth, skipping lightly to protect herself against the cold while rubbing her slender hands covered by gloves.</p><p>«Can’t you do it behind a bush, in a dark spot or even in the middle of the street, like all normal people do?» Pete asked again, grumbling and adjusting his green woollen hat on his head.</p><p>«It just so happens that normal people, as you say, don’t pee in the middle of the street but in a toilette. And this is exactly what I’m gonna do» Dallas repeated rising his know-it-all eyebrows.</p><p>«You’re a pain in the ass.»</p><p>«I’d like to remind you that we are identical twins. Ask yourself some questions.»</p><p>«Guys?» Emma calmly stepped in between. Walking on meant gradually getting colder, because the frozen air crashed on her face raging against her skin. Staying put on the sidewalk wasn’t a greater idea, though: she felt like getting more and more ice-cold, one inch at the time and relentlessly.</p><p>«In fact I’d wish to know how could we share our mother’s womb for nine months, since you’re so stupid.»</p><p>«Why are you speaking about yourself in the second person?»</p><p>«And why can’t you even understand it is you I was talking about?»</p><p>«Why don’t you drop it?» Snapped Emma with a bored sigh, moving a strand of her hair behind her ear.</p><p>«It’s not my fault my brother has all the obsessions in this world!» Pete defenced himself dramatically lifting his arms, referring to Dallas’ numerous and strange habits, in which fulfilling his needs in the open was not included.</p><p>«So are you going to discuss about it much longer?» She exclaimed, retrieving her cell phone from a pocket in her jacket. She didn’t even invest in scolding them by now, like a mother who knows too well her children’s tantrums: she even scared herself sometimes, thinking about how she resembled <em>her</em> mother, especially when she told Pete and Dallas off using the plural form, as if they were always both at fault.</p><p>«No, we aren’t, also because I’m gonna pee myself in a bit» announced Dallas, bringing his hand to his crotch above his dark trousers. His face was tensed and impatient, his cheeks were red from the cold, even if his olive skin prevented it to stand out. His cerulean eyes moved to his brother as in a silent prayer, and Pete’s eyes – identical – looked up to the sky, defeated.</p><p>Emma put back her cell phone after glancing at the empty inbox and smiled witnessing at that funny little scene.</p><p>«Come on, move» ordered Pete, squeezing his hands in his jeans pockets and setting off.</p><p>Dallas chuckled with a large smile on his lips, maybe the only things that discerned him from his identical twin in the eye of a stranger: Dallas’ lips were slightly more full, but above all they stood up for the scar that vertically split their right corner – he earned it falling to the ground during his first year of kindergarten. Pete had a more linear and less susceptible mouth instead: it would rather easily be affected by disappointment than hilarity.</p><p>«When are you going to stop pissing him off?» Emma wondered, smirking to Dallas and ruffling his dark hair, a little shorter than his brother’s.</p><p>«Are you trying to say that Pete can also <em>not</em> be pissed?» The answer was followed by a playful nudge.</p><p>«I can hear you» Pete informed them, being a few steps ahead. Good thing he didn’t turn to gaze at them, otherwise he would have seen Dallas mocking him without hesitation and for sure a new squabble would have started.</p><p>«Stop it» Emma warned him smiling, before looking around searching for any place in which his friend could satisfy his impelling need.</p><p> </p><p>«We can go there» proposed Emma, after covering a secondary road. Her feet, squeezed in a pair of white Coverse, were starting losing sensitivity.</p><p>On the other side of the street, there was a pub she already had heard of, even if she had never frequented it. Its sign had white cursive characters and spoke out the name of the pub – Rumpel. Its wide windows were darkened, making it difficult to glance on the inside.</p><p>«Are you kidding? At the very least we could meet Kol and company and frankly I’d rather avoid pretending one more time to enjoy his jokes» Pete protested, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. It was true, Kol was not the best company: he attended the tenth year and they all met him at a party held after one of those basketball matches which the school organized every month last Friday. He wasn’t a scum obviously, but with his annoying mannerism and his constant request of attentions he precluded a gateway to anyone who would make the mistake to stop and speak to him. If someone dared showing him a glimpse of bother, Kol would take on a suffering and dramatic litany that ended up being worse than his small talks.</p><p>«Don’t bother me…» Grumbled Dallas, looking left to right before crossing the street at a steady pace.</p><p>«Kent, you know better than me» Pete argued, trying to convince her with all his means. In fact Kol had never hidden his seduction techniques – although questionable – and Emma on the other hand never thought they had to be restrained, since she had never given them any relevance. Pete however was only exaggerating, as usual: he couldn’t be sure they would meet anybody in that pub, even if it was the gathering point of Kol and his unfortunate friends.</p><p>«You’re being paranoid» she cut him short, following Dallas and imagining his twin raising his gaze to the sky. «And you… Hurry up. All this nonsense just because you need to use the bathroom. I still have to grasp who is the worst between the two of you» Emma added addressing her other friend, while Pete caught up with them muttering annoyed.</p><p>«I’ll wait for you here» announced the latter, leaning against the wall with his back and ensuring to light his precious cigarette.</p><p>«Fine» replied Emma, nodding. «And stop calling me Kent.»</p><p> </p><p>Dallas had just disappeared in a corridor that probably led to the customers bathroom and Emma was inspecting the place, stunned by how many people were there even if it was only fine p.m. of a boring Monday. Yes, Kol was there indeed, but at least he had not noticed them. The inside of the pub was wider e more colourful than she had imagined: each wall was painted of a different tone - from ochre to a brilliant purple – and the black tiles floor caused the dirt fallen from the tables to stand up. Behind the long sprayed counter, a good-looking and well-shaved man in his forties was serving an older person who raised the average age of the place, clearly frequented above all from adolescents.</p><p>Emma bought a bottle of water in order to conceal their opportunist presence, then she waited aside enjoying the songs played by the speakers hung at the corners of the ceiling. When she caught sight of Kol and his red hair heading towards her without recognising her, Emma decided it was time to go looking for Dallas.</p><p>She covered the corridor her friend had entered, pausing on the ruined plaster and on the noising chattering of the pub becoming more and more muffled. After a while she came across two doors: no indication suggested if and which one led to the bathroom, so she had to figure it out by herself.</p><p>Emma nibbled the inside of her right cheek, but before she could make a decision, the door on her left opened, letting in a frozen air stream that hit her directly: that must have been an exit door leading to the rear of the pub.</p><p>She inevitably shivered, but she was so much focused on studying the guy in front of her, that she didn’t care: he had his left hand – almost twice the size of hers – on the grey surface of the door in order to keep it open and the other hand squeezed in the pocket of his skinny dark jeans. He wore a pair of ruined black Vans and a loose white t-shirt covered by a thigh-length velvet jacket. From his neckline stuck out incomplete parts of some tattoos.</p><p>The guy took a step forward, moving his hand from the door and causing it to shut with a metallic noise: this made Emma jump.</p><p>«What? Did I scare you?» He asked with a smirk decorating his clean face. It was really impossible to ignore how the green in his eyes resembled the most turbid waters or how his cheek were as red as his lips, made of soft lines. His messy, curly, dark hair surely was cold as Emma’s had been until a few minutes ago, maybe even soft. But most of all surely his features must have been all in her head, since they could have not charmed her so utterly without any effort.</p><p>Emma lifted her eyebrow, trying to register the raspy timbre of his voice, then she opened her mouth to reply something.</p><p>«You look like someone I know…» he preceded her, slowing getting closer and eyeing her face. At that point there were two possibilities: she <em>really</em> was terribly short, as Pete enjoyed underlining so often, or that guy was excessively tall. From that distance she felt so tiny in comparison.</p><p>«You’re stoned» commented Emma, straightforward as always. It wasn’t a reproach, but a simple indisputable assertion. Enclosed by long eyelashes, his green irises were indeed spoiled by the reddish tone surrounding them: it gave him an absent yet carefree look. It seemed like nothing could touch him or that he wouldn’t care anyway. Besides, if any other dreamy adolescent in her same situation would have liked to sense a sweet and captivating fragrance, Emma could only suit herself with the scent of pot and smoke coming from his figure.</p><p>«Kind of» he confirmed, well articulating the words and accompanying them with a low faint laugh. His teeth were whiter than that afternoon sky, which was threatening to make it snow. His eyes narrowing and little wrinkles forming on their side. The dimples on his cheeks gave him a childish look that was in contrast with his facial expressions. Emma couldn’t stop a smile, because <em>damn…</em> <em>that</em> was a laughter. And also because that guy didn’t react with any trace of resentment: calling “stoned” a complete stranger surely was not a wise idea, so getting back a civil response was as a matter of fact a real relief.</p><p>«See you around, yeah?» He mumbled soon after, without lingering on her and walking past her with slow steps and one of his hands between his messy hair. Just when Emma was developing a slight desire to touch his not so squared jawline, he had gone away without hesitation, almost ignoring her: having a conversation in that place and with a stoned someone don’t usually rise any expectation, but Emma still heard his raspy voice in her head and maybe even in her bones, and it surely wasn’t enough for her. Besides Emma did not like when something she craved for, more or less strongly, slipped away through her fingers so easily.</p><p>She watched him go away, repressing her wish to follow him or to ask him any question just to have an opportunity to catch new details of his face. A few seconds later the door at her right opened.</p><p>«Ah, here you are» Emma exclaimed recognising Dallas, who was rubbing his hands on his trousers. «I was starting to think you were definitely lost.»</p><p>«I couldn’t find the flush. Besides it’s completely disgusting in there. And guess what? No paper towel either» He justified and complained shooking his head.</p><p>«Come on, or else your brother will leave us here» smiled Emma, putting her hand on his back and starting off by his side.</p><p>«It wouldn’t hurt his twisted brain getting some fresh air» he answered, respecting the twins Butler’s style.</p><p>While they were entering the main place of the pub, Emma could get a glimpse of the guy from before, sitting at the table with some other peers. He didn’t wear his jacket anymore and his shoulder stood up from the thin fabric of the t-shirt, his nude arms were full of tattoos that from that distance were not discernible. She felt something moving inside her, quivering with the idea of sensing again the same oppressive and pleasant feeling.</p><p>«I like this place, you know?» Commented Dallas, saluting the man behind the counter, who showed a big smile in response. «Except for the bathroom.»</p><p>«Me too» she agreed, peaking for the last time at the motive behind her reply. He hadn’t seen her and that annoyed her, because she knew she would be capable of getting noticed.</p><p>Outside the air was freezing and Pete was smoking his second cigarette, or maybe his third. «Did you have to pee or to recreate the Niagara Falls?»</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Haltow vs Lincoln</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>2. Haltow vs Lincoln</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Ron Clarke cleared his throat while glancing at his daughter Emma: she was getting out of the bathroom wearing her bathrobe and a towel around her wet dark hair. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms on his chest, lifting his thick eyebrows. «Are you going somewhere, young lady?» He asked, sceptical.</p><p>Emma sighed and hugged herself in the fabric, drenched in a sweet perfume. «Dad, your memory is starting to fail» she muttered. Her face was reddened by the steam.</p><p>«Quit being a smarty» Ron scolded her, taking a step forward. He rubbed his salt and pepper hair and looked at her with his dark eyes.</p><p>«I’m not being a smarty, I’m being sincere» pointed out Emma, staring back at him. «Anyway… Tonight there's the basketball match at my school: I’m goi-»</p><p>Ron interrupted her, suspicious: «I don’t know anything about it». Mr. Clarke needed to know exactly each movement of his daughters, or he wasn’t happy with himself: the problem is he was becoming more and more overprotective and paranoid – or maybe he had always been – especially since he usually forgot about any schedule his daughters told him about in advance.</p><p>«Mel!» Emma called, eyeing her older sister walking by. Melanie turned to her: her hair was pinned back and she was wearing inappropriate pyjamas, since she was sixteen years old and it was full of painted tiny childish bears. «Mel, repeat to dad that on the last Friday of every month my school hosts a basketball match» she prayed her with a bored attitude. She couldn’t stand people breathing down her neck and the fact that, as soon as her sister opened her mouth, her words were considered pure gold. Could a single year age gap influence a person’s credibility so much?</p><p>«Hmhm» mumbled Melanie, yawning. Her light blue eyes hidden behind her eyelids for a few moments. «Tonight the Lincoln’s are on» she confirmed. Emma had even forgotten that the match involved Melanie’s school team: it was the first time since the beginning of the academic year, so she was wondering if it would be worth it.</p><p>Ron was thoughtful, maybe asking himself what to do, while his elder daughter walked away murmuring to her sister something like “Don’t ever say I never help you”. Emma rolled her eyes, she was sure that at this rate she was going to be late.</p><p>«You know I shouldn’t let you go considering your behaviour in the past few days, don’t you?» Her father remarked at last, frowning.</p><p>«Please, dad» complained Emma, releasing a deep sigh. Every single time they had to go through something like that: sure, she didn’t hesitate to answer back to her parents when she felt like it, but truth to be told, this didn’t mean she was a criminal. Her father always tended to exaggerate: he had his own stiff idea of respect.</p><p>«Don’t “please” me. This is the point: you take all for granted, as if you could always get away with it and-»</p><p>Emma knew her father’s lecture by heart, but Fanny’s tiny and quick steps interrupted it: she was running along the corridor only wearing her slips and socks, as expected from a lively seven-year-old girl.</p><p>«Fanny, get back here! Now!» Constance scolded her, getting out of the child’s bedroom with her pyjamas in her hands. The same colour of the wheat, her hair touched her shoulder while her eyes, so similar to Melanie’s, reflected her exhaustion at the end of the day. She placed her hands on her slim waist and sighed, without any intention of running after her daughter – who meanwhile had arrived downstairs. «Ron, let her go» she then said, addressing his husband.</p><p>Emma smiled because she was grateful and because she felt her mother was ubiquitous: she had ears everywhere. Constance was likely to have a word with her strict husband on Emma’s behalf, even if sometimes it was even more likely for her to be more severe than him.</p><p>«What do you mean by “let her go”?» Ron protested, with an annoyed expression on his face. He clearly didn’t like to be contradicted while he was trying to make a point, but as hard as he tried, Constance Benson didn’t grant a way out. Emma took advantage of this fact to sneak off, still smirking and full of impatience.</p><p> </p><p>«Finally!» Tianna exclaimed without any particular enthusiasm, focused on rolling a cigarette while keeping an already lit one between her lips. She was sitting on the rock wall next to the entrance of their school – the Haltow High School. Her hair was darker than that night and it was loose on her shoulders. Her pitch-black eyes, so dark that sometimes you couldn’t spot their pupils, were fixed on her hands.</p><p>Emma smiled feeling guilty and Pete gave her a nudge. «Guess whose fault is that?» He asked rhetorically, getting closer to her friend.</p><p>«You don’t say» Tianna replied, inhaling some smoke and putting away the cigarette she had just made. She lowered her eyelids and got down the rock wall, leaving a quick kiss on Emma’s cheek and ruffling Pete’s hair.</p><p>«I’ll cut your hands off sooner or later» he promised, bothered.</p><p>«Has the match already started?» Emma inquired. It was half past nine so probably the match had been going on for a while now, but she couldn’t help having in her veins the essence of being late.</p><p>«I don’t know and I don’t care: I just wanna get in, I’m turning into a popsicle» Tianna muttered while tossing the cigarette to the ground and squeezing her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket.</p><p>«Do chocolate popsicle even exist?» Wondered Pete, walking next to the two girls and referring to Tianna’s dark skin, her Kenyan heritage. His playful eyes were waiting for a similar reply.</p><p>«You’re getting more and more stupid each day that goes by» Tianna sighed. «Rather, where is Dallas?»</p><p>«Star Wars marathon tonight» Emma explained, knowing they wouldn’t need any more details.</p><p>«Loser» commented Tianna while tenderly smiling.</p><p> </p><p>The game had not started yet, actually, but all the waiting public had already settled in the bleachers and the girls who looked like cheerleaders had already begun dancing on the field. The gym was set up for the occasional party that followed each hosted match: some odd decorations and some spotlights were hanging from the ceiling. It was only the 26<sup>th</sup> of January and everyone was already so tired of school as to become eager to attend to a simple basketball game, whose players couldn’t even sweep the NBA’s locker rooms, even if they could still be appreciated.</p><p>Soon enough the shiny orange field filled up with teachers first, then with coaches and assistants and finally with players. The Lincoln’s had a bright yellow and green uniform (inspired by the school colours), while the Haltow’s proudly flaunted the same purple uniform that had always guaranteed so much luck and so many victories.</p><p>Emma faced Tianna, who was sitting beside her crossing her legs and with a Redbull in her left hand. She studied her foreign features for a few seconds, her delicate round-shaped nose, her lips – which sometimes were considered too full – and her thin eyebrows, in that moment just a little bit concerned. Tianna didn’t even bother to blink, so Emma felt the need to intervene. «You’re a fool» she began, matching a smile to her head shaking in disapproval. «Why don’t you give it a try?» She added while the other one turned to look at her.</p><p>Tianna sighed and slightly frowned, causing a dimple to show up on her right cheek. «Not everyone is like you» she pointed out. Emma’s initiative was indeed really rare, but that didn’t matter. Tianna had a pathetic crush on the basketball team captain since the first day she set foot in school, yet she always limited herself to admire him from far away, to talk about him on the phone with her friends at two a.m. or to stumble when she occasionally met his eyes in the corridor. How could she not have enough?</p><p>«Not everyone is like you either» Emma replied then. «Why don’t you want to make him understand what he’s been missing without even knowing? Sometimes boys need some things to be rubbed in their nose to even notice them, you know?»</p><p>«Yeah, sure, but if I stepped up he would say something like “Ah, I didn’t even know you attended this school!”. And I’d make a fool of myself – which I already am. ‘Cause, damn! I’m really going low with all these stupid worries» Tianna snapped, sipping her Redbull and glancing back again at the basketball field, where Jaye – pure delight to her eyes – had started to warm up with some free throws. His blonde hair was so light that he looked albino and his freckled, rosy complexion made his blue eyes stand up.</p><p>«Girls, I’m gonna be sick» Pete stepped in, showing his bored face. He wasn’t a big fan of this sort of conversation, even if he was always ready to participate when strictly needed. He considered it absurd and useless, a mere pretext not to get in action.</p><p>Tianna deeply exhaled. «Go buy me an hot-dog, instead of talking nonsense» she replied, pointing with her index finger at the man who was wandering through the public with a box full of calories on sale.</p><p>While the two of them kept arguing about who had to get up or even pay for the hot-dog, Emma was holding her breath. Her eyes were lingering on one subject alone, as they were trying to figure out if one of the guys in the field really was the one Emma had met and studied at the Rumpel more or less three weeks before. She was trying to understand if those were the same messy and curly hair and if those were the same lips, which from the bleachers she couldn’t faithfully outline.</p><p>And yet it had to be him, otherwise she couldn’t explain the troubling attraction her body was experiencing. Every fibre in herself was shouting at her, having recognized him even before her brain could do it. It was underestimating to say she wasn’t expecting to see him again, to see him <em>there</em> while playing in the Lincoln’s or to see him <em>there</em> juggling with such a skill that she couldn’t decide whether it was real or just the result of her mind’s work.</p><p>Did this mean he attended her sister’s school? How old was he? And what was his name?</p><p>She needed to gather all the information and she prayed he would participate to that evening’s party, because she couldn’t deny having thought about his crooked smile and his hoarse voice after their first meeting.</p><p> </p><p>The atmosphere in the gym had completely changed. The lights had gone off, leaving aside some spotlights that were colouring the shiny floor with bright tones and confusing movements. The bleachers were crowded with teenagers who didn’t know whether to lay down, feeling their head spinning, to force themselves to get down a few steps to get something else to drink or to keep dancing on the inexperienced notes of the DJ. Empty cups were on the floor and spilled drinks made everything sticky. The three teachers who had been appointed to “handle the situation” – as the students had been informed – had given up an hour later: it was impossible to complete the task, since the forbidden alcohol kept being sneaked in and the threatening promises of detention and failures didn’t work. For this reason the teachers could only try to avoid the party to get out of control. They had no gain in letting out a scandal: Emma wondered how could they rest on their laurels using such a trivial and questionable excuse. </p><p>Students were managing with what they had, without expecting too much or working too hard. Even Emma didn’t flinch anymore laying her eyes on some students who were awkwardly dancing on a bad song. She didn’t bother if someone risked to spill their drink all over her or if a sweet couple was going to mate dangerously close to her – in fact, in that case she had frowned her lips in a disgusted expression and she had moved away, cursing with a subtle “Shit! Pull yourself together!”.</p><p>She wondered where Tianna was: when she had asked Pete, he had kept dancing with his eyes closed and a smile while replying “You can’t see anything in here: how could anyone see <em>her</em>?”. That answer gained him a playful punch on his arm. Emma had lost sight of her fifteen minutes before, since the gym was getting more and more crowded. But most of all, she hadn’t be exactly careful.</p><p>She was more focused on observing. On searching for someone, better yet. Among all those people, among all those sweaty and confused bodies, due to the lights and the chaos, she knew well what to look for: she had just one target and its name was Harry Styles. She had found out his name when the speaker commenting the match had praised a score he had made – the only one, actually. Emma had realised his talent was real, even if his coach had benched him rather early because of some sort of game strategy she couldn’t grasp. She had also concluded that his quick movements and the skin deforming over his tensed muscles weren’t healthy for her. She had seen him laughing out loud with a teammate, finding herself involuntarily bending a small smile, and she had seen him cursing and shaking his head for a failed strategy or a suffered foul. She had enjoyed imagining his voice intonations and immediately after she had forced herself to maintain a certain personal pride.</p><p>Obviously she hadn’t caught sight of him since the end of the match and, obviously, she was so pathetic to not be able to think about anything else: something about him pushed her to dare, whatever meaning one could interpret. She just needed a fleeting look to feel ready for anything, even if she couldn’t figure out the purpose: she simply became eager and proactive, as if her entire body was encouraging her to move, to reach for the source of that commotion.</p><p>Calling herself insane, Emma decided that for that night the only thing she was going to reach for was Tianna, or maybe even Pete, just to steal some of his Jack Daniel’s. She made her way through some students she only knew by sight, she changed her direction when she spotted Kol and she held her eyes closed for a few moments when she realized she had just missed by an inch a shapeless, big stain on the floor looking a lot like vomit. Finally, though, she could reach the bleachers, where she went up five or six steps to get a better view.</p><p>Emma lightly nibbled the inside of her cheeks, while tiptoeing to inspect the crowd – this time not to look for Harry Styles. She sighed rolling her eyes and considered her options: yet, while she was about to choose between persisting in her hostile research and going back to the dancefloor ignoring his father’s calls and enjoying herself, she spotted a figure resembling her friend Tianna.</p><p>She followed it with her gaze, frowning her forehead for the effort, and she tried not to lose it from her sight, moving tiny steps on her left according to where her supposed friend was going. She had all the time to understand that the girl was in fact Raissa, her art classmate, and that probably Tianna would have killed her knowing she had mistaken them, before absent-mindedly bumping into someone.</p><p>Emma tried not to lose balance, glancing at the threatening step before her, and immediately turned around.</p><p>«Harry…» she whispered, opening her eyes wide for the surprise and for her beating heart, slightly shaken by that precious and unexpected encounter. Harry Styles was standing in front of her with his obnoxious height.</p><p>She smiled right away, lifting her eyebrow with satisfaction. «Harry!» She repeated in a more resolved tone, greeting him. He narrowed his eyes, probably trying to understand who she was, and kept holding his almost consumed cigarette between his lips: he ran his hand on his head, unaware that his hair was already a mess, and shifted his weight on his right leg.</p><p>«Am I supposed to know you?» He then asked, slightly leaning towards her to make sure he was heard, since the music was too loud. Emma hadn’t expected him to remember her, but this didn’t bother her: on the contrary she did consider it as an advantage. She swallowed and briefly glanced at Harry’s friend, who was deliberately ignoring them, wrapped up as he was in talking to a girl too little dressed.</p><p>«Would you like to?» Emma answered back, looking directly at him. She would have liked to turn on the lights in the gym, in order to rediscover Harry’s eyes and their shades, which she had almost forgotten. Now she knew for certain that she wasn’t crazy and that <em>there was</em> a reason if meeting him again had been so upsetting: it was simply impossible to do otherwise.</p><p>Harry lifted his eyebrows and slowly smiled with surprise, maybe even with some uncertainty.</p><p>«I’m Emma» she introduced herself, without extending her hand but licking her lips, showing off her little self-driven woman look. She couldn’t resist a whim or a deeply-rooted desire: she tried her best to obtain everything that tickled her pleasure.</p><p>«Maybe I’ve been drinking too much…» Harry replied, his mouth widening a smile that was about to result in a laugh. «But I’m pretty sure I haven't said “yes”» he continued, looking at her with amusement. In his voice there was no trace of the same veiled despise that, for example, she used sometimes when she had to talk unwillingly to someone. Instead there were flashes of curiosity and wonder.</p><p>«I’ve answered in your place» she simply explained, casually shrugging.</p><p>Emma just wanted to make him smile again and maybe to get him closer and to touch him and to talk to him and…</p><p>«Hey, Clarke!» Someone not far away from them saluted her. She raised her eyes to the point where that voice had come from and weakly waved her right hand to Matt, another art classmate of hers.</p><p>«Clarke?» Harry repeated, seeming thoughtful. He pulled away the cigarette from his lips and threw it to the ground, putting it out with his foot. «Clarke as in Melanie Clarke?» He inquired.</p><p>Emma was surprised by that link, but she didn’t show it: she was bothered by the fact that her sister was once again between her and something or someone, or simply by her knowing Harry. What was their relationship? Was he going to tell on Emma’s cheeky words or was he going to forget it in a few hours?</p><p>She nodded, curious to see his reaction. «She’s my older sister» she confirmed.</p><p>Harry brightened his smile and shook his head. «You’re little Melanie’s sister…» he commented, with an expression difficult to work out. Was he amused? Stunned? Satisfied?</p><p>Hearing the nickname Harry had given to her sister, a prideful twitch of irritation took over Emma, but she clenched her fists and ignored it. She finally understood that, when they had met for the first time, he really had gotten right the resemblance between Emma and Melanie, in spite of being stoned.</p><p>«Do we really have to talk about her?» Emma purred, suddenly feeling uncomfortable for the intrusion of someone else in that moment.</p><p>«So let’s see… What would you like to talk about?» He argued, lifting a corner of his mouth to create a playful expression.</p><p>Emma raised her eyebrows and took a step forward, parting her lips to breath slowly and to hint an involuntary yet liberating smile. Her face was up to Harry’s chest, her body was a few inches away from his and her chin was lifted so that she could look him in the eyes. While every cell composing her was tensed for that closeness, she was wondering what Harry’s real scent was: not the one that tasted like smoke or alcohol, as in that moment, but the one he had on his skin when he woke up in the morning or as soon he got out of the shower. </p><p>«What do you think?» Emma said, well articulating the words and continuing to experience the intense desire to do, to say and to be anything, caused by Harry inside her and without any logic. As a matter of fact he was a stranger and she didn’t know anything about him: was it already enough? Or was she really insane?</p><p>At that point Harry laughed. He laughed with the accentuated dimples by the sides of his mouth and taking a small step backwards, with his hand between his hair and his eyes almost closed. «Little girl...» he exclaimed, quietening his laughter. «Little girl, slow down» he repeated.</p><p>Emma put on a more serious look, while feeling the echo of his words in her head.</p><p>
  <em>Little girl.</em>
</p><p>«Listen...» Harry started, searching his pockets and taking out a thin metal box from which he extracted a cigarette, probably handmade. He kept gazing at Emma, though, without leaving her not even for an instant. «I appreciate your initiative, but come on... I'd feel like some kind of paedophile» he added, shooking his head while a strand of hair fell on his forehead.</p><p>Emma’s feelings were hurt, despite being aware of the effect that her determined and straightforward behaviour caused in most of the people: most of the times she was considered an arrogant and uninhibited child, but the truth is her nature was simply made of longing and fickle carefreeness. She couldn’t care less what she had to endure or whom she had to deal with, her goals were always very clear to her, so much as the effort she had to make to reach them: when she cared, though, she didn’t show it.</p><p>As in that moment.</p><p>Emma ran her hand through her long and wavy hair, she blinked her blue eyes and smiled. «Your loss» she simply said, just before turning around and walking away from Harry Styles and his out of reach lips, without waiting for a reply.</p><p>Only then, only when she had put up a secure distance between them and only when she was not before his eyes anymore, she let herself frown and grumble. «Fuck you» she muttered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Let's play</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>3. Let's play</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It was Monday and Emma was in front of the Rumpel once again, gripping her purse’s strap with one hand and keeping her other one in the pocket of her jacket.</p><p>Dallas had suggested her to study together: he couldn’t take a hold of that damn Philosophy lesson. He had invited her to his house after school, but Emma had refused without even coming up with an excuse. She had just answered that she was busy and that some old philosopher could wait to be cursed and fought. Tianna had tried to poke around and to insist, asking her what she had to do and why she had such a sly look on her face, but Emma had kept on walking and not replying. She had not told anyone she was intentioned to go back to the pub and challenge her destiny, maybe getting to see Harry Styles once again.</p><p>On the day after the basketball match at her school Emma had sneaked in Melanie’s bedroom and had borrowed her old yearbooks: she had browsed through them and found out Harry was nineteen years old, that he liked smiling while being photographed and that he was a higher sixth-former.</p><p>Some could have considered Emma a stalker, since she was going to look for him without knowing anything certain about his routine, but she preferred to justify herself with her boldness in trying to reach for what was annoyingly stuck in her head. She had ruled out the possibility to go to Lincoln High School, since she sure was determined, but not so desperate as to show up there without a solid reason, so she had decided that the Rumpel could bring her some luck.</p><p>It was there she had met Harry the first time, around the same hour, so there was a slight chance to meet him again.</p><p>Emma didn’t hesitate to open the black painted door and to dive in the comfortable atmosphere of the pub, shivering because of the difference in temperature and starting to take off her woollen gloves, which didn’t completely spare her fingers from the cold. She briefly looked around, catching some strangers’ eyes absent-mindedly laying on her: maybe fifteen people were sitting at different metal tables, but Harry was not there.</p><p>At the counter, the same man from the previous time was quickly drying glasses with skilled movements. As soon as he looked up to see who had just entered and saw her, he smiled warmly and nodded in greeting. Emma greeted him back and decided to sit at one of the few free tables, in one corner of the pub and next to the wide window that overlooked the street.</p><p>Emma licked her lips and crossed her legs under the table, fetching from her purse the book about Photography that her mother had bought her for Christmas and that she hadn’t started reading yet. Since she was a good observer, she liked to photograph details surrounding her, with her inexperience decreasing and her passion growing. She loved losing herself in details, seizing what usually goes unnoticed at first glance: for example the corners of the mouth of the girl sitting a few meters away from her, which were so well outlined as to seem fake. The wrinkles around the right eye of the old man reading a paper at the table on her left: who knows how many things they had witnessed and handled. The bewitched gaze of the young man across the pub, who was talking to an unaware woman. Emma hardly pictured a whole figure or face, a wide landscape or some other subject where you couldn’t focus your attention on something specific: she had other preferences and she guarded them with care.</p><p>«Good morning, what can I get you?» A gentle voice asked. A waitress, maybe in her thirties, was staring at her smiling and waiting for a reply.</p><p>«A chocolate milkshake, thank you» Emma answered kindly.</p><p> </p><p>As Emma looked up from her book she realized she had lost all sense of time: clients had decreased in number, warm ochre lights had been switched on to make up to the incoming night, from the windows she could glimpse the dark sky above Bradford.</p><p>Emma cleared her throat and stretched, moving on her chair to revive her right leg, which had pin and needles from the prolonged stillness. She glanced at her wristwatch: without even acknowledging, it was already twenty past six.</p><p>She sighed: she had transformed a search for a stranger into a moment for herself, for her interests and passions. Emma shrugged, not all disappointed, and turned one page to spy on the next topic, then she straightened her back and couldn’t do anything else: her attention was fully absorbed by the opening door of the pub.</p><p>A group of four or five guys was just entering the pub, chuckling for some jokes or some funny story: what caught Emma’s eyes, though, was Harry’s presence among them.</p><p>By then she didn’t think she would have met him, not on that day anyway, so she was both surprised and thrilled: she squeezed a little too much the page in her hand, while looking at Harry walking with his friends to a table a few metres away. His hair was trapped in a grey woollen beanie, his black coat made him look rather thin and his blue jeans stuck to his slender legs: he was smiling widely while talking in a low voice.</p><p>Emma breathed deeply, without being able to withhold a satisfied and impatient smirk, but as much as she wanted to, she didn’t continue studying his movements. She lowered her head and pretended to be focused on her reading, while memorizing Harry’s spot. She knew exactly what to do.</p><p>After a few minutes, during which the words written in front of her had been nothing but an illegible mix of letters due to Harry’s voice and its being a distraction to Emma, she slowly lifted her face, resting her forearms on the table. Right in front of her, he was quite in the same position: his dark sweater was a bit loose and his eyes cheerfully moved from one friend to the other while following the conversation they were having.</p><p>Emma wet her lips. «Excuse me?» She exclaimed, raising her voice and her hand to draw the waitress’ attention, who was busy wandering among the tables. Then she looked back to Harry and realized she had just reached her goal: he had noticed her and he was watching her with a confused, surprised and playful look on his face. Maybe he had recognized her.</p><p>Emma gave him a smile, far from being shy: it was confident and challenging. She didn’t wait for his reaction, though: the waitress was yet again at her table and Emma ordered a simple bottle of water before going back to her book with her eyes, but not with her mind.</p><p> </p><p>Fifteen minutes later – twenty if anything – Emma felt the need to avert her eyes from the pictures printed on her book and to look up at whoever had just sat at her table. She secretly knew – <em>hoped</em> – it was Harry, but she decided to keep that feeling to herself: she simply blinked as Harry cleared his throat right in front of her.</p><p>Emma quirked an eyebrow and kept quiet, lingering on Harry’s crossed, large hands and on his chest: he was slightly leaning forward. Emma had never seen eyes so green and they were studying her without haste or shyness. On both sides of his moist, rosy mouth, Harry’s dimples were a clear sign of the smile he was trying to hide.</p><p>Emma was about to give in under his gaze, under the unstoppable urge to take off his hat and run her hand between his hair, but she imposed herself not to let her emotions shine. Finally it was Harry who ceded to the silence between them, made of both implicit and clear meanings.</p><p>«You again, hm?» He asked, licking his lips while they bended upwards. The situation had to amuse him very much, at least as it amused her.</p><p>«Or you again» Emma replied, without averting her eyes.</p><p>Harry lowered and shook his head, chuckling and making her smile. When he looked at her again, though, he couldn’t witness her little reaction since she had been so good in concealing it. «Is it a coincidence or are you following me?» He inquired, undaunted.</p><p>«Why would I follow you?» Emma asked, faking a confused look. She didn’t care whether Harry believed her or not, but from that simple question she had gained two pieces of information: first, Harry remembered her well enough to recognize her after two days; second, he was full of himself and vain, since not so many people would have thought of being followed by a girl they only met once – even if their meeting had been full of hints. He had to hold himself in high regard.</p><p>«I don’t know» stated Harry, shrugging. «Maybe because you have no intention of giving up» he dared, with a playful look: he knew the effect he had on other people – <em>on her</em> -, he was just waiting for a confirmation. More information: he had a huge ego.</p><p>Emma smiled this time, briefly glancing at her book. «I believe you have a lively imagination» she replied, wrinkling her nose. She knew he was right, but she was never going to admit it out loud, let alone in front of him.</p><p>«You think?» Wondered Harry, making a clicking sound with his tongue against his palate.</p><p>Emma nodded and went on talking even if her stomach was collapsing due to Harry’s presence. «After all it was you who came to me» she explained, pointing at his friends’ table. «And you didn’t even ask if you could take a seat» she added, keeping her lips drawn in a stifled smile.</p><p>They were both playing, without declaring it, but taking it for granted. Emma could only hope to win.</p><p>Harry lifted his eyebrows, playing around with the dark metal ring on his right index. «If I had asked you, you would have said yes» he pinpointed, soaking his statement in confidence.</p><p>Damn, he was right.</p><p>Emma opened her mouth to warn him not to be so sure, but she was preceded by the ringtone of her phone. She leaned down to search for it in her purse and she tried to ignore the gaze Harry was using to trap her. She read Pete’s name on the display and took the call.</p><p>«Pete?»</p><p>«Kent, hey!» He greeted her, causing Emma to roll her eyes. Dallas and Tianna were joking in the background. «Where are you?»</p><p>«At home» she said, before realizing she had just made a wrong move. Harry quietly laughed and ran his hand on the back of his neck, while she sighed and lowered her eyes on the surface of the table.</p><p>«Come here, then. We’ve finished studying just now. We’re ordering some pizza» Pete announced, making it clear through his voice how much he despised studying Philosophy and how tired he was.</p><p>«No, Pete» Emma dismissed him. «I’m going to have something quick to eat and then go back to study: if I come over, I’ll be doomed at tomorrow’s test.»</p><p>Harry was focused on that conversation and he was trying to put together the pieces, even if he could only hear Emma’s words. He bit his bottom lip.</p><p>«Oh, come on, Kent!»</p><p>«See you tomorrow morning. And quit calling me Kent» Emma added, as always, before hanging up the phone and putting it back in her purse.</p><p>She cleared her throat and adjusted the right sleeve of her dark blue cardigan.</p><p>«Kent?» Harry repeated, curious. «Why is this Pete calling you Kent?»</p><p>He sure was nosey. Emma was amazed by how simple it was to grasp all those details from only his words.</p><p>«For a foolish reason» she replied, mumbling. She noticed Harry was insistently waiting for a clearer explanation, so she couldn’t help but grumbling and moving a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. «It seems that when he thinks about my surname or when he pronounces it, Clark Kent, Superman, or whatever, always comes to his mind» she added, blowing up her cheeks like a little child and studying the amused reaction in front of her.</p><p>Harry seemed to have an easy laugh and a beautiful laugh. Emma knew in that moment that she hadn’t made a mistake the first time they met, since he really could make her feel good with a simple detail – and he sure was full of details worth of being studied and even photographed. The arch of his eyebrows, for instance. The slightly pronounced moles on his jaw. The ones on his neck.</p><p>«So why did you lie to him saying you were at home?» Harry continued, as if he was longing for more information. It was early to think he was interested in her, rather than in those little excuses used to make her talk: the previous Friday he had been pretty clear about the possibility of a deeper relationship between them.</p><p>«Are you going to interrogate me?» Emma argued, tilting her head on her side. She didn’t mind answering his questions, because she didn’t mind being able to observe any little change of expression on his face or his eyes movements – his irises darker because of the soft lights. She just wasn’t willing to reveal her secrets.</p><p>Harry lifted his hands in surrender, leaning back against his chair: he probably knew he had gone too far, especially since their strange relationship, that didn’t even have a clear direction.</p><p>«Why did you join me?» Emma insisted, putting her right elbow on the table and resting her chin on her clenched fist. She was curiously waiting and she felt quite in power of the situation.</p><p>«I’ve already told you: I wanted to know if you were following me» Harry slowly explained.</p><p>«But now you know, so… What are you doing here?»</p><p>«As if you mind».</p><p>«I do, actually».</p><p>«Oh, really?»</p><p>«I was reading, if you haven’t noticed».</p><p>«I’ve noticed, yeah».</p><p>«And I’d like to continue».</p><p>«I sure won’t be stopping you».</p><p>Harry showed her a crooked smile, full of provocative amusement, and he bit his lower lip, maybe hoping she couldn’t find the words, but he didn’t move from his chair. Emma, however, kept staring back at him with her eyebrow lifted for the competition that had prevailed in a matter of seconds and for her being uncertain about her expectations: she had to admit his behaviour was confusing her, even if she couldn’t take it as a disadvantage. </p><p>Emma took a sip from her bottle of water in order to fill the silence, even if it wasn’t enough to intimidate her. She just had to wait and pretend not to feel his gaze all over her, not to feel the need to stare back at him: not as if in a challenge, but for simple pleasure. She cleared her throat and focused on the book in front of her, reading a few sentences in her mind and absent-mindedly.</p><p>Emma was about to laugh and she almost gave up when she heard Harry doing the same, quietly and shaking his head. «What?» She asked calmly, showing off an innocent look that certainly was not one of her qualities.</p><p>«You’re funny, little girl» Harry observed, pointing his left index finger to her and narrowing his eyes.</p><p>Emma snorted. «I know» she replied, annoyed. Then she added: «And if you stopped calling me that way, you’d be funnier yourself, you know». Why the majority of people around her had to use nicknames when talking to her? Even her little sister Fanny had started calling her “Mema” a few years back: but she couldn’t pronounce her name, at the time. What was everybody else’s excuse?</p><p>«Yeah, it’s just… I don’t think I can recall your name» Harry explained, wanting to look sorry for his gaffe but only ending up looking more sneering than ever. Emma rolled with the punches and dwelled on it for a few seconds: maybe the fact he had recognized her had given her false hope, since outer appearance is always easier to remember rather than a name, heard only once and in the midst of music and chatter at a party.</p><p>«My name is Emma» she sighed, gently closing her book and putting it back in her purse without any haste. Her pride wasn’t hurt – <em>she thought</em> – but she really had to go home, otherwise her mother would have scolded her for being late.</p><p>While Emma was putting on her scarf, Harry kept gazing at her. His thoughts being too difficult to crack. «I’ve not offended you, I hope» he giggled, remaining still when she stood up with her jacket in her hands.</p><p>Emma smiled without looking at him and simply remarked: «It takes a lot more for me to get offended, trust me».</p><p>Harry wet his lips and tilted his head, continuing to observe her movements as if it was the most natural thing in the world. «Have a good night!» She exclaimed and he smiled back – Emma wondered if he could avoid it from time to time. «You too, little girl» Harry said, just to bother her.</p><p>Emma rolled her eyes grinning and headed to the counter to pay: the bartender’s features were even more pleasant once she got closer. A thick layer of black beard covered his jaw and his small brown eyes stood out at both sides of his straight nose. His hair was short and dark and exposed his wide forehead. His voice was raspier than Harry’s while he thanked her for her money.</p><p>«May I ask you something?» Emma inquired, lowering her voice so that no one could hear her.</p><p>The man furrowed his brows. «Sure» he politely replied.</p><p>«Do you know Harry?» she dared, without pointing at him or looking at him.</p><p>Her interlocutor kindly laughed before answering. «Has he bothered you, by any chance?»</p><p>Emma shook her head, smiling because of that curious question. «No. I’d just like to know if he comes here often» she said.</p><p>«I’ve to put up with his face almost every day, yes» was the loving reply. «May I ask why you wanna know?»</p><p>«Just in case I want to be bothered» Emma joked, making him laugh out loud.</p><p>«Then I guess I’ll see you again» the man exclaimed, smiling widely also with his eyes.</p><p>Emma nodded. «See you soon» she confirmed, before turning away and walking up to the door of the pub.</p><p>She didn’t look for Harry nor his eyes. Despite champing at the bit to know if he was gazing at her, she didn’t want to give him any satisfaction. She simply walked with her head up and put on her gloves when that Monday’s wind hit her hard, the door closing behind her with a loud thud. In the cold air and in the early darkness, Emma slowly moved past the pub and smiled to someone who couldn’t see her anymore.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Told you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter four - Told you</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>On the following day Emma didn’t go back to the Rumpel, because she had failed her Philosophy test – her dad hadn't taken it too well – and because she had no intention of doing so.</p><p>On the day after that she actually went back there and found Harry at the counter, looking at her with his forehead frown and a surprised smile on his face. Emma sat down at her usual table and studied that morning’s Biology lesson, without ever raising her eyes and without Harry approaching her as the previous time. Only by the end – when Emma stood up to get dressed and leave the pub – their eyes met in greeting, smiling openly.</p><p>On the third day Emma was late and Harry wasn’t at the Rumpel, but she still ordered a hot tea and read another chapter of her Photography book, enjoying the warmth of the pub and comfortably sitting at her table.</p><p>He arrived when she was leaving, roughly an hour later: Pete was in absolute need of her lucid mind to help him resolve Math exercises – “You know damn well I’m gonna fail, if I don’t make up”. Harry happened to open the door just when she was doing the same, so they both stopped on the threshold, surprised and observant. Then Emma slightly nodded in his direction and he shook his head raising his entertained eyes to the sky, before letting her through and entering the pub.</p><p>On the fourth day Emma stayed home and on the fifth she didn’t go out by herself.</p><p>«Say again: since when do you have a thing for this place?» Tianna inquired while crossing the doorstep of the Rumpel, a hairband between her lips and her hands tying her hair up in a ponytail.</p><p>«I’ve passed by a few times before, it’s not bad» Emma casually explained, shrugging and looking around. Her eyes were trained in searching for a specific subject, one they couldn’t stop observing to grasp new details: Harry was sitting at the table in the centre of the pub, surrounded by his friends and with a handmade cigarette in his hand.</p><p>«If you say so» Tianna sniffed, heading to the counter.</p><p>Emma raised an eyebrow and heard Pete mumbling something about the temperature being too high in there and Dallas scolding him for being a pain in the neck. She waited for Harry’s attention to fall on her and she bent her lips in half a provocative smile. Then she followed her friends, recalling in her mind how Harry’s face had changed due to a stunned and hopeless expression.</p><p>Ty, the bartender she had started a good relationship with, gazed at her funnily since he already knew her intentions, but he didn’t say anything on the matter. He then proceeded with taking Emma’s and her friends’ orders with his cheerful manners and his warm eyes.</p><p>«Anyway, I know that guy» Tianna exclaimed, picking up her glass full of juice and pointing at someone behind their backs.</p><p>Emma turned around, curious, and was satisfied in noticing that her friend was referring to someone in Harry’s group, even if she couldn’t say to whom exactly.</p><p>«Is he one of the boys you usually only stare from afar hoping they’ll notice you sooner or later?» Pete wondered, using his well-known tact and sneering while sipping from his cup of hot chocolate. Tianna glared at him and Dallas cleared his throat, asking: «Who are you talking about?».</p><p>«The one in the grey sweater… dark haired: his name’s Walton. My brother used to tutor him a few years ago» Tianna explained, turning around to face the counter. Her brother was three years older and was in college, he had studied in their school.</p><p>Emma paused on the main character of their conversation, watching his sharp chin and his large nose, his eyes way too thin and black: his high cheekbones worsened his look and he seemed rather skinny. He was sitting right next to Harry and it was impossible for their differences not to stand out: their closeness enlightened his obvious inferiority in outer appearance.</p><p>«Mother Nature hasn’t been really kind to him, I suppose» Dallas remarked, frowning his eyebrows and sighing while putting his hands on the counter.</p><p>«No, she hasn’t. But he’s really fun» Tianna added nodding, confident. «You’d like him».</p><p>Pete was sceptic. «You’re unreliable in these things» he pointed out. «Last time you’ve said someone was funny, he revealed himself to be a self-centred geek who couldn’t even get a simple joke.»</p><p>«That’s exactly why he was so funny!» Tianna giggled.</p><p>Emma smiled and wet her lips, once again briefly spying on Harry and his friends. If Tianna knew someone in his group, she could take advantage of that.</p><p> </p><p>Emma sipped from her half empty glass and laughed at one of Dallas’ jokes. Roughly forty minutes had passed since they arrived. Tianna had fallen in love with Ty, admitting she would have gladly tasted a “timeworn sweet” – the expression had made Pete’s lips wrinkle in disgust.</p><p>Emma was covering her mouth with her hand as thin, cheerful tears where growing in her narrowed eyes. She casually turned left and noticed Harry wasn’t at his table anymore. He was walking towards her.</p><p>She gradually got serious, stared at him and lingered on his slender legs and his well-defined torso, hidden by his sweater. She almost smiled to him, but Harry invited her to follow him with a small nod. Emma frowned her forehead and watched him disappear in the hallway leading to the bathrooms. Then she muttered some excuse to her friends and got off the stool wondering what to expect.</p><p>Harry stood in the middle of the corridor, right where they first met. The chattering in the pub was low in the background. He met her eyes while Emma slowly came closer, curiosity bursting in her veins.</p><p>As soon as a few feet divided them, Harry was the first to speak. «What do you want, once and for all?» He abruptly asked, without any negative inflection, but quirking one corner of his mouth in a tiny confused smirk.</p><p>Emma tilted her head left and shrugged. «What are you talking about?» She asked back, despite already knowing the answer.</p><p>Harry sighed a sneer and shook his head. Each movement was slow, controlled. «You really think your little schemes and your fake innocent look are going to fool me?»</p><p>His eyes narrowed as they inspected her and for a brief moment he seemed not to play along anymore. He had stopped complying with her and let her know he hadn’t fallen for the bluff she was carrying on so intently.</p><p>Emma inhaled intensely, filling up her lungs. She didn’t feel exposed or trapped. On the contrary, she all the more loved to have power over the results.</p><p>«You know well what I want» Emma remarked, raising an eyebrow and bending her lips in a smile.</p><p>«I thought I made myself clear at the party» Harry said, running his hand through his slobby hair and bringing up his far from discreet rejection. «And yet here you are, suddenly a loyal client of this pub and waiting for something I have no intention of giving you» he added, lightly lowering his voice. His usual entertained mood was shifting into something different, maybe boredom.</p><p>Emma blinked a few times, untouched by his veiled complaint. It was what she had always wanted to reach after all. Firm dedication was often disliked and rarely tolerated, but hopefully it could lead to a breaking point and hence to a turning point. «Then we can say I’m as stubborn as you are» she calmly replied, taking a step forward.</p><p>«Jesus…» Harry murmured, cracking a smile and not looking at her. Emma smiled back. «You’re <em>fifteen</em>» he continued, furrowing his brows while emphasizing what was a futile number to her, but maybe something more important to him. Emma didn’t wonder how he could be so sure about her age - he knew her sister Melanie, so he could easily know something about her family too – but she grew tired of that subject.</p><p>«And you’re nineteen, so what’s the problem?» Emma asked and crossed her arms, her amused tone fading in a more harsh shade.</p><p>«<em>This</em> is the exact problem» Harry retorted incredulously, but slightly smiling nevertheless.</p><p>«I don’t get it. You don’t even know m-»</p><p>«You don’t know me either, yet-»</p><p>«You don’t even know me» Emma cut him off with a demanding composure. «So why do you bother to complicate matters?»</p><p>«Because I already know enough and you’re not what I want» Harry promptly said, setting aside any sneer he had ever used. He caused a small crack in Emma’s shield of initiative: tiny and almost insignificant, but it was there. He was talking rubbish: he had no idea of what she could offer him, of what could grow between them. She hadn’t either. How could he anticipate something like that?</p><p>«Why do you insist?» Harry wondered, not waiting for a reply. His raspy voice was lower, oddly serious, and Emma would have liked not to be compelled to notice its every inflection, always different and never trivial.</p><p>«Because I’m willing to prove to you this age gap problem is just nonsense» Emma explained. She was more determined than usual, maybe because her attraction to Harry had merged with the annoyance for his inconsistent reasoning, with the awareness of being underestimated while she perfectly knew what she was worth – fifteen or not fifteen years old. «Because I’d like to try, at least» she concluded.</p><p>Harry sighed and glanced at her for a few seconds. Meanwhile a silent challenge was taking place between them. Then he quickly licked his lips and interrupted eye contact. «To try, hm?» He repeated: he stepped closer, his eyes went back on her. «Let’s try it my way then. Shall we?» He suggested, taking yet another step forward.</p><p>Emma’s back was brushing against the wall behind her. She held her chin up to stare back at Harry, as he got so close as to touch her large sweater at each inspiration. She didn’t reply to his proposal, she was curious to find out what he was talking about. She didn’t even flinch when Harry’s left forearm leaned against the wall, creating some sort of a cage with his slim body looming over her.</p><p>Emma felt her heart failing her, losing its usual composure and self-control for a brief moment, since Harry’s lips were near enough to be bothersome. And she could smell his real scent. She could finally smell it, taste it and memorize it while Harry breathed on her face. She didn’t know whether that small satisfaction would finish her eventually, but she feared it.</p><p>Harry kept staring at her blue eyes - armed with boldness against what could reveal itself as a deceit – and he didn’t bother pausing on other details. His face was inches from hers and he was breathing slowly, his mouth moist and slightly parted – pure lust to Emma.</p><p>Her small hands clenched in two fists to loosen the adrenaline, Emma attempted once more to obtain what she desired. She tiptoed and tried to reach Harry’s lips, unable to resist. She had to admit her defeat though, when those same lips moved away smiling, almost sneering at her with a well-defined awareness.</p><p>She almost blew up her cheeks in frustration, but she restrained herself to interpret words and movements that were shaping her against her will. «No» Harry whispered in fact, moving closer his face with a destabilising slowness.</p><p>He couldn’t do that to her, he couldn’t defy her in that way, having already met her exasperated impatience. Yet he lifted his right hand between their bodies and touched Emma’s cheek, brushing it with his index finger and causing shivers on her pale skin, full of freckles that laid invisible for the time of the year and for the face powder she used to conceal them.</p><p>Emma’s heart struggled to maintain its task once again.</p><p>For the first time Harry’s attention lingered on something lower on her face: her lips. He gently slid his thumb over them, as to invite them to part. They didn’t, distracted by that unexpected and intimate contact.</p><p>Harry’s thumb then ran down to her chin, while Emma unwittingly flattened herself against the cold wall behind her. His hand rested on her throat, covering it with its hot palm. His fingers tangled in the hair at the base of her skull.</p><p>His movements were extremely calculated, as if they were part of a scheme to follow in order to obtain certain results. Yet they also seemed natural, as if Harry couldn’t do otherwise. Emma compared his regular breath on her skin and hers, suspended, waiting. She felt her nails cutting through her palms in the effort of not leaning against Harry. She felt the urge to stop listening to him, to stretch out and kiss his insolent and sadistic mouth, as if to punish it.</p><p>When Harry’s hand left her throat, Emma moved imperceptibly, disturbed. «Don’t» he cautioned her, touching slightly her upper chest with his fingertips, casually caressing her. His turbid, green eyes were fixed on hers once again, maybe trying to intimidate her.</p><p>Emma fiercely clenched her jaw, as if to demonstrate she was not doing as he said because she felt obliged to, but just because she had decided to allow it. In fact, his hands could rest on her for hours more: she didn’t mind.</p><p>Meanwhile one of those hands was following an invisible path down Emma’s abdomen, only to move on her thin side, still covered by her woollen sweater. Harry was torturing her.</p><p>Emma bit her lower lip when she felt Harry’s resolved and tapered fingers clinging to her skin and luring her to his body. So closed together, her back arched so she could look him in the eyes.</p><p>Harry smiled, cheeky master of the situation, and moved his face closer to her, near her ear, as if to whisper her something. His breath slowly lashed her loosen hair. Only then Emma closed her eyes and let transpire just a little bit of the shattering emotion she was experiencing. For all that time she had had to fight and to stare back to Harry hoping not to let him easily win, not to let him know what his presence was causing in her: at that point she could finally rest, allow herself to be weak.</p><p>Harry stroked her thin neck with his nose, making her mentally pray for his lips to linger on her skin for once. Just for once. But they didn’t. He didn’t react when Emma abandoned herself to the uncontrollable need to grab at his arm and torso, to feel his tensed back through his sweater.</p><p>Harry’s right hand, that had played dirty up to that moment, decided to go further: it moved and let Harry’s fingers to play around with the hem of Emma’s jeans, pushing themselves maybe a few inches under the tight cloth. Emma opened her eyes and parted her lips, licking them and wondering if he was doing the same. She quit trying to pull her heart together and breathed out from her mouth.</p><p>Harry's delicate and falsely innocent fingertips walked on her abdomen, down to the buttons of her light jeans. When he slowly grabbed them to pull them out of the buttonholes, Emma let a more intense breath slip away from her lips. Probably because of the surprise, probably because of the pure pleasure in pressing against his body, probably because of the eagerness for something she had never experienced or because of the fear of something she wasn't sure she wanted to feel... Emma slightly shuddered.</p><p>She heard him smile, with his mouth close to her right ear and his hand finally stopping its slow torture. «Told you» Harry whispered. «You're just a little girl» he added, before calmly parting from her – still bewitched by those last moments – and walking away with his hand, <em>that hand</em>, making his hair messier.</p><p>When Emma saw him disappear behind the corner, her chest was still shaking rapidly, as if he were still there, fooling her and her initiative. Her eyes were wide open and Harry’s harsh scent was lingering in her nose.</p><p>She was surprised at herself for letting him go without protesting or even moving, deprived of any trace of her usual strength. She was also stunned and disappointed by something she hadn’t had expected: Harry’s intention were definitely clearer at that point. When he had confessed she was not what he was searching for, he had surely meant he didn’t want anything to do with an unexperienced fifteen-year-old girl who was pretending to be something else. He preferred someone more experienced, maybe, more uninhibited: someone he could play with at the first opportunity. And he had wanted to show her, pushing her to exasperation and testing her determination so he could study its limits. Clearly what he had gathered had only strengthened his hesitation, causing him to back off before even getting close enough.</p><p>Emma had no intention of living in a state of seclusion, obviously, but she firmly believed that giving herself to the first, random guy was not dignified nor fair. She didn’t want to play hard to get or anything like that, but she believed having some emergency break to be legitimate. As much as the emotion felt for Harry’s hands on her body had been gushing and ultimate, she wasn’t going to get blinded by it. Probably, even if Emma had already had certain type of experiences, she would have not given in so easily, nor so soon: if he wanted something else, if he preferred something easier to win, she would not bend to his will by a snap of his fingers or by one of his smiles.</p><p>She was determined, not stupid.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Choking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter five - Choking</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>«You’re sure this Gae remembers you?» Dallas asked once more, a small cloud of breath in front of his face due to that evening’s frigid temperature. His hands were in his pockets and his mouth was hiding behind the neckband of his grey Parka: his cerulean eyes fixed on Tianna, who was ringing the doorbell even if the loud music muffled the screeching sound.</p><p>«What difference does it make?» She retorted quietly, quickly fixing the hem of her white dress: the contrast with her coffee complexion was clear. Her dark hair was tied in a braid on her right shoulder and her black eyes stood out even more for the mascara on her eyelashes.</p><p>«You two are true idiots» Pete commented with tact, while moving past his friends to open the door without pomp and ceremony. Immediately the music loudened and the racket caused by dozens of people crowding in the house invaded their ears. They let themselves in, setting aside the good manners that had restrained them up to that moment and without wondering if someone would recognize them or not.</p><p>Emma glanced around for familiar faces and for new ones that didn’t ever fail to attend to a party. She took off her leather jacket and placed it on her arm, then she checked on her dress. The finely embroidered, black bustier was a little tight around her stomach, but as Tianna had pointed out it showed up her small chest: underneath, a thin, dark belt interrupted the fantasy of the fabric to make space to the uniform and skin-tight cloth that barely covered a third of her thighs. At that point had been Dallas’ turn to comment: “And it suits your ass!”.</p><p>Emma flicked her loosened, straight hair over her shoulders and smiled to Pete, who had already managed to steal a cocktail who knows from where: he offered it to her, while moving to the rhythm of the song playing as they spoke. When she had a sip, following her friends and being careful not to stumble on her velvet high heels, she realized it was something similar to Vodka, tasting more like Gin: something disgusting.</p><p>«This is not a house, this is a fucking castle» Dallas remarked, looking around: the rooms were indeed wide and numerous, the house being at least on two floors. Some drunk teenagers were carelessly handling a few objects that seemed pretty valuable, just as the carpets in the living room, on which alcohol had already been accidentally spilled. Gae’s parents were not going to be happy about it.</p><p>On second thoughts neither Ron Clarke would have been happy to know her daughter had shamelessly lied to him by saying Tianna and she intended to sleep at Dallas and Pete’s since their parents were out of town. Asking to go to a party on a Monday evening was usually out of question, but Tianna’s spirit was on the ground so they had to take her mind off it. On that particular morning, in fact, along the Haltow High School corridors her alert eyes had spotted her secret crush – also known as Jaye Foster, captain of the basketball team – hand in hand with some Judith girl from Year 11. Tianna herself had proposed to attend Gae’s party, an upper-sixth former she had spoken to maybe three times before: she had seemed to be the last hope to escape. Emma had <em>just</em> had to lie to her parents, stick her change down her school backpack and wait for the bus to take her to Tianna’s, to get ready with her.</p><p>«I can tell you this: you won’t come home with us if you’re not completely wasted, so get on it!» Pete pointed out, offering another glass of alcohol to Tianna, who was glancing around with a lost look on her face.</p><p>Dallas took Emma by the hand and walked her to the centre of the living room: he threw his Parka on the sofa, but immediately moved it, since a rather uninhibited couple had clearly mistaken it for a sheet.</p><p>A few seconds later, Pete disappeared narrowing his eyes and with a cigarette between his lips, while Tianna danced forcing a smile that soon would become spontaneous.</p><p> </p><p>Emma moved light-heartedly, ignoring her hair getting messier and messier around her face and the strange expressions of the guy she had started dancing with without even noticing. She gave him a quick look, being him a perfect stranger: he made her feel short and Emma hoped his level of pleasantness could be directly proportional to the amount of pimples on his face.</p><p>When the song ended, Emma couldn’t find Tianna anymore: she had been dancing not so far with a glass in her hand, barefoot – after two hours in the party she had grown sick and tired of high heels. Emma tiptoed and searched for her friend among the crowd, while remembering a similar situation during the basketball after-party at their school.</p><p>Who knows what Harry was doing in that moment or when she would see him again.</p><p>«May I have another dance?» Asked the guy beside her, with such a strange look on his face that he ended up looking ridiculous instead of provocative. It was quite astonishing how a young man could feel his hormones go mad by simply dancing with a random girl – by dancing with <em>her</em>.</p><p>«No, I’m sorry. I have to go» Emma dismissed him, trying to smile to him as gently as she could.</p><p>She turned around without waiting for a reply and made her way through the people, curling her lip when she sprained her ankle and almost fell. She pulled her hair up with one hand and started fanning herself with the other, wondering why it was so hot in that room: she could swear she had been feeling fine until a few seconds before, but suddenly she sensed a burst of heat coursing through her body. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, blaming the amount of people and the chaos for her discomfort.</p><p>Some girl banged into her, laughing out loud while hinting at a hazy and incomprehensible apology. Emma shoved her aside with a quick, almost petrified movement. Her breath died in her throat and she clenched her hands when she began to recognize the way her mind was growing apart from reality.</p><p>She had to get out of there.</p><p>Emma took a few steps forward harshly barging through some of the people, that seemed cement blocks on her way, and feeling her head more and more heavy. Fear was taking control of her. «Sod off! Shit…» she murmured, pushing with her sweaty hands against the back of someone who was standing in front of her.</p><p>It never occurred to her it could be Harry Styles: problem was, even if it was unlikely for him to be attending a party held by a student from a different school, Emma was indeed facing his eyes. Besides, Emma hadn’t drunk on that night – since alcohol had proved to be disgusting – so it <em>had to be</em> Harry.</p><p>Harry’s annoyed attitude quickly changed when he saw her: his look went from surprised to confused, when Emma closed her eyes and went past him undaunted, determined to get away from him and all the rest. She abruptly grabbed the door handle and opened her mouth to seek in more air, gasping and collapsing.</p><p>Outside Gae’s home, Bradford’s cold night was helpless against the feeling of her skin and organs burning up. Emma rested her forehead on the brick wall and panted, or at least she was trying to: her lungs seemed not to be able to do their job anymore. Her heart was beating too fast.</p><p>She didn’t want to a have a panic attack. Not there. Not after all that time. Not without Dallas beside her. <em>No, please, no.</em> Yet her throat was hurting even more every time she inhaled and cold air flew in. Her legs felt terribly heavy, as if they intended to drug her to the ground while she couldn’t fight. Burdened by all these feelings, she didn’t discern the voice that was talking to her: she could only hear her difficult breaths.</p><p>A hand laid on her stiff shoulder and Emma turned suddenly with her eyes wide open, wondering if it was really Harry once again or if she was just too confused.</p><p>«Are you even allowed to drink?» He sneered, his hair trapped under a back to front, grey baseball cap. He was probably thinking she was drunk and about to throw up. When Emma didn’t reply, spreading the palm of her hands against the wall and shutting her absent eyes, his facial expression started to change into something more serious.</p><p>«What’s wrong?» Harry inquired, taking a step forward.</p><p>«I can’t…» Emma murmured. Her own voice was alien, she couldn’t breathe.</p><p>Harry blinked. «What the hell is wrong with you?» He repeated.</p><p>«Dallas-»</p><p>«What?»</p><p>«Dallas…» Emma couldn’t talk. Her head was about to explode, while the need for screaming and running away and screaming once more grew inside her. It was happening again and she needed Dallas. «Find him» she managed to say, before chocking on a missed breath.</p><p> </p><p>«Little girl, I don’t even know who the fuck this Dallas is. How could I find him?» Harry snapped, seeming vaguely concerned. He didn’t get a reply. «Shit» he muttered, licking his lips. «Tell me what I have to do. What Dallas would do.»</p><p>Emma bent over and exhaled a mild sob, lowering her eyelids to shield herself. She clenched her jaw and heard Harry getting closer until he was looming over her.</p><p>«Hold me» she whispered.</p><p>«You can’t even breathe, if I hold you it will be worse!» Harry pointed out, unsettled and hesitant. His raspy voice was the only thing Emma was trying to clutch into not to think about her burning, empty lungs. Emma knew he was right, since theoretically someone who can’t breathe shouldn’t need a suffocating hold around their body, but she also knew that it worked for her and that Dallas was the only one who could calm her more quickly when panic attacks surprised her. She wanted to explain it to Harry, but the words kept mixing up and remained at the back of her subconscious.</p><p>«Jesus Christ» Harry exclaimed, stepping closer and wrapping her shaking body in his arms. The scent on his green jumper flooded into her nostrils and Emma squeezed that same cloth in her hands, so tight as to reflect her condition. She was disappearing in that hug, her legs were giving in and Harry’s arms held her as if she was too small and risked to slip away. She felt Harry’s breath in her hair and jealously hoped to steal it from him.</p><p>«More» Emma said, while her fasten heartbeats mixed with the bass of the music coming from the party. She heard it rumbling in her every vein and she feared her temples could burst any moment now. Harry stressed his hold, squeezing Emma against his chest despite not being certain about how it could help her. She followed, plunging her fingers in his back: they weren’t shaking anymore.</p><p>«Stop» Harry urged, whispering next to her right ear. «Enough» he added soon after, his voice feeling like pure reassurance, even if demanding. Emma wanted to comply without even thinking about it, but she had to wait for her body to stop freaking out, for her throat to stop burning and for her head to stop being so heavy.</p><p>Emma kept her eyes closed and her face on Harry’s jumper, trying to focus on his hands on her and on the scent that was enveloping her more than his strong arms.</p><p>At times like this, there was nothing Emma could think about that could ease her, simply because her mind was too blurred and her reality was too twisted. She had no control over anything and it petrified her, so she just couldn’t get past a panic attack by herself: the only valid explanation was that having someone squeezing her more than the air surrounding her was squeezing her lungs could make her feel safer in some way. And no, Harry was not Dallas, but she had stopped shaking and her throat was torturing her less.</p><p>Emma slightly moved to take a better hold of the back that was supporting her, sinking her face in Harry’s chest. It was surreal to stay like that on the porch of a stranger’s house, hearing loud music and drunk people in the background, as if nothing could interfere with their forced closeness.</p><p>When Emma managed to take a deep breath, feeling her lungs filling up with oxygen and her heart relaxing, Harry ran his hand on the back of her head and slowly sighed. «Are you OK?» He asked, without loosening his grip.</p><p>She nodded, her eyes still shut, but didn’t let go of him.</p><p>Only after a few minutes Emma felt everything going back to normal inside and outside her. Only after a few minutes she realised to be in Harry’s arms and to be able to breathe. The feeling of suffocating heat had disappeared and, as much as that cage of muscles and warm skin was protecting her from the cold, she decided to take a step back, inhaling deeply.</p><p>Harry’s arm slid at the sides of his body. He stared at her carefully, concerned: he bit his lower lip and cleared his throat, briefly glancing at something behind him.</p><p>«What was <em>that</em>?» Harry inquired, with the stunned voice of someone who had had to deal with something inexplicable.</p><p>Emma grabbed the chain of her purse to fix it on her shoulder, running her hand through her hair and locking eyes with Harry. «A panic attack» she simply explained. She was feeling cold now.</p><p>«A panic attack?» He repeated, raising his eyebrow. «And is it gone or- I mean, is it going to come back?»</p><p>She smiled without parting her lips and glanced at him with amusement: Harry had seemed rather naïve and he had lost his usual sneering look. «You talk about it as if it's some sort of wicked monster» she joked. «But no, it’s not coming back.»</p><p>«Don’t play funny, little girl» Harry cautioned her, pointing at her with his finger and narrowing his eyes as to warn her. «You scared the life out of me.»</p><p>Emma gave a hint of a laugh. «Thank you, by the way» she murmured, staring at his green irises, darkened by the night that was only softened by the lights of the living room.</p><p>«Hm…» Harry hissed, while fixing his cap on his hair.</p><p>Before Emma could ask him how come he was at that party or suggest that the past two days without seeing him had not been fun, before she could say anything else, someone clumsily opened the front door and looked outside. It was Walton, Harry’s friend: his face was more cheerful and he definitely was drunk, his hair messy and sweaty. When his tiny eyes landed on Harry, he smiled widely.</p><p>«What the hell are you doing out here? Jenna’s willing to play stone face, come on in» he exclaimed, staggering on his thin legs.</p><p>Emma frowned and Harry sighed. «You know I don’t play that sort of games» he replied, entertained.</p><p>«Who gives a shit? It’ll be fun!» Walton insisted, laughing without a real reason. «You can bring her too, maybe she’s in» he added, acknowledging Emma.</p><p>«Yeah, sure. Now go back inside. I’m coming» Harry said, smiling and showing his white teeth, while his friend urged him to hurry and disappeared behind the shutting door.</p><p>«Stone face?» Emma inquired, curious as usual. She still had an odd feeling in her stomach: she didn’t know for sure whether it was due to her previous panic attack or to the idea of having to part from Harry, but she was feeling sick.</p><p>«Yeah, I don’t think you’d be interested» Harry commented, giggling and running his hand on the back of his neck. Malice was in his eyes and Emma took notice of it.</p><p>«Try me» she challenged him.</p><p>Harry slid his tongue on his parted lips, smiling, and observed her. «Fine» he sighed. «Male players sit around a table, public stands all around. You’re telling me you’d kneel under that table and suck a stranger off, hoping to arouse him to the point he can’t hide from everyone else he is the one you’re playing with?»</p><p>«<em>What?</em>» Emma was shocked to say the least. That’s why it was called “stone face”? Those boys had to stay still while some girl did a great mouth job on them? Who the hell invented games like that?</p><p>«As I thought» Harry chuckled, causing his dimples to come out. «Anyway… You’re alright now, aren’t you? I… I’d go back» he quickly said, pointing his right thumb at the door behind his back.</p><p>Emma partly opened her mouth. «Yes» she answered, caught by surprise. «Yes, I’m fine. Go ahead» she added, nodding to emphasize her lie. She was fine, but she didn’t want him to go away, above all since she knew what was waiting for him and even if he had already admitted not to be interested.</p><p>Harry nodded smiling and waved her goodbye before turning and entering the house. Emma stayed still, as if he had not gone away, and snorted her dissatisfaction. She faced the street and sat down the steps leading to the walkway in the front garden: her skin was freezing, but she had no intention of going back into the crowd to search for her jacket, because she would have never said that to Harry, but she was utterly frightened of feeling another panick attack creeping in.</p><p>Emma rubbed her hands on her bare arms and blinked, looking at a pair of friends who were just arriving at the party. She moved to the left to let them through, then she tried to hold the hem of her dress in place while she took off her high heels, putting them aside.</p><p>«Change of plans» someone exclaimed behind her, a minute later, while the door opened creaking and closed banging. Emma smiled, recognising the voice, but didn’t turn around.</p><p>«You missed me already?» She asked. Harry sat down next to her with a heavy breath.</p><p>«No. It’s just I don’t feel like looking at that loser’s face while he comes» he said, taking out a metal box from his pocket. Darkness made it look less familiar, but Emma could tell it apart when she noticed it had handmade cigarettes inside.</p><p>«At least I know I am more appealing than Walton’s aroused expression» she shrugged, joking.</p><p>Harry turned to face her with a cigarette between his lips, curled in a faint smile: his eyes narrowed and a light grey Zippo in his hand.</p><p>«Do you know him?» He wondered, before lighting the cigarette. Emma forced herself not to linger on the details the tiny flame had just illuminated.</p><p>«Not in person. A friend of mine knows him» she explained, inhaling the smoke exhaled from Harry’s mouth. «By the way, how do you know Gae?»</p><p>«Gae?» Harry repeated, frowning and resting his forearms on his knees.</p><p>«Yeah, she lives here… You know? Rings a bell?» Emma giggled. It was strange talking to him so easily, since last time they didn’t <em>really</em> talk and since she couldn’t say which one he preferred.</p><p>«Ah, right. I don’t know who she is, actually. She must be Walton’s cousin or something like that» he answered, indifferent. In profile, Emma could study the soft lines of his nose and the more delicate ones of his lips. «Is she a friend of yours?»</p><p>«No, she’s not. I don’t know her either» she pointed out. Harry nodded funnily and kept smoking, setting the time with his long, regular breaths.</p><p>«These panic attacks… Do you have them often?» He then asked with interest.</p><p>«No, actually. It’s been a year since the last time» Emma muttered, while lowering her gaze.</p><p>«They suck, hm?»</p><p>Emma nodded. «It’s like not having control on anything, not even on yourself. You just completely lose control» she added. She didn’t went on saying how much she hated not being in control and he didn’t insist.</p><p>«I thought you resented me» Harry said after a few seconds, his voice low but alert, suddenly changing the subject. Emma glanced at him, resting her eyes on his large hand, that was holding the almost consumed cigarette between its fingers. She raised an eyebrow and Harry felt free to keep going. «For what happened at the Rumpel» he shrugged.</p><p>«Do you believe it would have happened if I had not wanted it to?» Emma inquired, putting on a smart expression. She couldn’t let him think she was the victim of the situation: she was far from being one. She <em>had let</em> his hands touch her and shape her without a fight. She had longed for more contact. She had let him be in control of the situation, more or less wittingly, and she had accepted the risk: she wasn’t going to feel sorry for herself for his rejection, and he was being conceited if he expected it to happen.</p><p>«Are you really so confident?» Harry pried, addressing a provocative look to her, the same he had had in the corridor of the pub, right before crushing the distance between them.</p><p>«I am» she proudly replied. For a brief moment Harry’s eyes lingered on Emma’s legs, covered by see-through tights: it costed her a certain effort not to smile. «And I think you’re more than a coward than you’ll ever admit» she added, resolved. She would have told him that on that same day at the Rumpel, but he had gone away before she could put order among her thoughts or shove away the feeling of his breath on her neck.</p><p>Harry took a drag from his cigarette and tossed it on the step under them, crushing it with his dark boot. «This is a low blow, little girl. Let’s hear, why would I be a coward?»</p><p>Emma cleared her throat and braced her legs with her arms, to fight against the cold night. «Simple. You’re afraid of not being enough to make me spread my legs» she stated, without worrying to tone down her language or to mask her audacity. The concept was pretty clear and she believed Harry wouldn’t have used other words for it. She was certain of her theory: there was no other explanation as to why he had decided to stand back before being able to determine it was worth it.</p><p>Harry stared at her in a whole new way, influenced by her interpretation of his behaviour and by something else it was impossible to discern. Hurt, masculine proud? Offended testosterone? Whatever it was, it amused Emma as to make her struggle not to laugh.</p><p>Neither of them had time to speak again, since Emma was suddenly distracted by Dallas’ voice, alarmed and slightly nervous. She faced the front door and stood up as she saw Tianna supported by the twins.</p><p>«Tianna…» Emma whispered, while Harry followed her looking confused.</p><p>«Let’s go home, Kent» Pete instructed, his lips sulkier than usual. «She’s out» he added. Tianna’s make-up was melting and mascara traces stood out on her cheeks, proving that they had been soaked in tears until a few moments before. She could stand, but she couldn’t walk properly.</p><p>«Here» said Dallas, handing her jacket to Emma: she grabbed it and put her high heels on. Harry looked at her and simply nodded, giving a hint of a smile. Then he went past her friends and entered the house, leaving her stomach to crumble.</p><p>«Has she thrown up?» Emma inquired, following them down the steps.</p><p>«Not yet. I’m afraid tonight we’ll have some fun» was Dallas’ response, his eyes tipsy, but still lucid.</p><p>«It’s because I’m so stupid, you know? I should have talked to him, stepped up… Instead I-» Tianna muttered. «Actually, no. He doesn’t even know I exist! It’s always like this and nobody is ever gonna even acknowledge me and-»</p><p>At that point Pete abruptly moved in front of her and grabbed her by her shoulders, cutting off her grumbling, drunken speech. «Quit this bullshit» he scolded her. «Jaye’s an idiot, but this doesn’t mean nobody will ever notice you. You shouldn’t waste yourself on someone who is not worth it, someone who doesn’t deserve you, so shut up and walk home. I swear if I hear you say other crap like this, I’ll leave you here and I won’t help you when you’ll start throwing your soul up!»</p><p>Emma widened her eyes and smiled openly, surprised by Pete’s rough words of encouragement. Tianna sealed her lips as if she was a baby ready to cry. «OK, I’m sorry, but don’t get angry at me» she whined. Pete turned around and searched for a cigarette in his jacket.</p><p>Emma stepped closer to Tianna and surrounded her back with one arm, helping Dallas. «Let’s go.»</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>